Life in Music- Your Red Shirt

So I've got this gig at the United Center this week. My group, BMR4, will be performing pre-game grooves for the Bulls' fans and those of their ilk.

A good mixer for nacho consumption, no?

It's a regular gig that we get each year, good for about half a dozen jobs each year. Since the Bulls made the playoffs this year, we get extra work, starting this week.

Not too shabby.

I like the U.C. gigs. They're relatively painless, as there is only 1 set lasting about 85 minutes.

"Hit it and quit it," as the Godfather of Soul, James Brown, used to say.

I'm also done at 7pm, which means that I can still dance the night away (or do another gig, if only the damn phone would ring.)

Like I said, the gig is painless and easy, for the most part (the security shakedown is still a waste of time, though.) This time, however, a rather unusual request was presented to us: we needed to wear red shirts (Bulls colors, you know).

It's not the first time we've had to put on the proverbial monkey suit. Sometimes (actually, every time, now that I think about it) we have to wear a lapel pin with the name of the night's sponsor. Usually, it's a bank or some big-money institution. It's usually ugly, obviously annoying (it's not like we're getting extra dough for being a walking billboard), and ultimately silly.

But we do it. We need the gig. Everyone needs to hold on to their gigs these days.

So I'll wear the red shirt, artistic integrity still in tact. I'll even smile.

I should wear red shoes, too. Maybe a red wig and nose, too.

So it goes...